


Electric Effloresce

by SongOfMarbule



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:45:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfMarbule/pseuds/SongOfMarbule
Summary: Prompto Argentum, also known as "QKSLVR", had been the undefeated champion of his favourite arcade game Malboro Mayhem for months. All was right in his world... that was, until a mysterious arcade patron known only as "IGNITE" swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere, and defeated his high score by one point...





	Electric Effloresce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sayura21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayura21/gifts).



> This is my Secret Santa gift for the lovely Sayura! I was going with an "enemies to lovers" theme just for fun and then it turned into... this. LOL, I hope you enjoy!!

Ice.

A chill crept up and down Prompto’s spine, freezing the rigid bone like an icicle in his back.

Eyes fixated in front of him, he was akin to a stone cold statue, like someone had pressed his pause button and stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes passed over those digital numbers and letters on that brightly lit arcade screen over and over, searching for some kind of explanation. Was this some kind of mistake? Did he suddenly forget how to read? Had the machine somehow been hacked? Had he stepped into some kind of interdimensional portal and was whisked away to an alternate reality, one where right was left and up was down?

“No. Way,” Prompto uttered in disbelief.

“Dude,” came the voice of his best friend, Noctis, at his side.

“Is this----”

“Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“There’s… there’s gotta be some kind of mistake, right? There’s gotta be something wrong with the scoreboard.”

“Sorry man. It’s as clear as day.”

“But---”

“It’s official.”  Noctis clapped his hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “You suck.”

Someone had beaten Prompto’s high score.

Malboro Mayhem. Prompto’s absolute favourite video game. He’d played it a lot when he was little on his parents’ old game console, so he supposed it could be considered ‘retro’ now. When he discovered that there was a working Malboro Mayhem cabinet at the local arcade, Prompto raced down there so fast he was sure speedlines followed him, like he was a protagonist in a shounen manga. It was a puzzle game where you played as a Malboro, tossing colourful poison blocks down on other similar-coloured monsters to wipe them out. It had been a stress reliever of sorts for little Prompto, and now it served him the same purpose years later as a full-time college student.

Prompto had become something like a local legend at the arcade. He’d gained a bit of a rep as the undisputed Malboro Mayhem champion, the record holder of a mighty 9,999 points on the highest level of difficulty. The initials he’d entered on the scoreboard, “QKSLVR”, had remained untouched at the number one slot for six months straight, never to be torn from its mighty mantle of bragging rights.

Or so he’d thought.

Prompto groaned as he stared at his new harsh reality.

RANK 2: QKSLVR

SCORE: 9999

RANK 1: IGNITE

SCORE: 10000

Those red digital letters lit a fire in his eyes.

_‘Ignite’._

Just who the hell was ‘ _Ignite_ ’?!

“So, how’s your ego doing?” Noctis teased, a knowing smirk on his face.

“One. Point,” Prompto huffed.

“Bruised? Busted?” Noctis continued. “In shambles, beyond repair?”

“One point! One _measly point_!” Prompto complained.

“From the sound of it, I think it’s been steamrolled.”

“Shut up,” Prompto hissed, hand buried in his pocket as he rifled around in the stash of lint and receipt papers for tokens. “This is just…temporary! Yeah, temporary! You’ll see. Just gotta take this ‘Ignite’ back down a few notches, is all. Restore balance to the world. No sweat. Easy-peasy.”

“Uh huh,” said Noctis, leaning against the Googly Moogly cabinet to Prompto’s left. “But didn’t it take you _hours_ to even get that score to begin with?”

“Yeah, but that was the Prompto Argentum of six months ago,” replied Prompto, shoving tokens into the machine like his life depended on it. “The Prompto Argentum of the _now_ can beat that score in half an hour, _tops_.”

Noctis snorted. “Right. Should we take bets on that?”

“...well.” Prompto paused. He glanced at his friend with a crooked smile. “No.”

“Figured. Why’s this got you in such a bad tizzy, anyway?”

“Dude, this is my _honour_ at stake, here.” Prompto grit his teeth, closing his fist around the joystick. “I’ve got bragging rights to _one thing_ and this _one thing_ happens to be this dumb game. Let me have this, all right?”

Noctis yawned, then smiled. “All right, then. Show this ‘Ignite’ who’s the one true Malboro Mayhem champion.”

Prompto drummed his hands against the cabinet and grinned wide. “Hells yeah I will!”

And then, three and a half hours and several bruised fingers later… order had been restored to the universe once more. Prompto took a step away from the machine, shaking his sore wrists loose as his audience of fellow arcade patrons hooted and hollered all around him. Even the owner of the arcade, Wiz, had wandered over to watch somewhere along the way. Not that he could see them right now; his eyes burned, and when he squeezed them shut he could still see the falling poison blocks pass in front of them.

“Looks like ya finally did it,” Wiz said fondly, gently patting Prompto’s shoulder. “Congrats, boy.”

“Thanks, Wiz,” Prompto grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He smiled despite himself, though the smile didn’t take long for it to bloom into a tired yawn instead. Through his strained and fatigued eyes, he studied the updated scoreboard with an almost longing smugness, taking time to admire each letter and number.

RANK 2: IGNITE

SCORE: 10000

RANK 1: QKSLVR

SCORE: 10027

There he was again, rank number one. And man, did it ever feel _good_.

 _Ignite, you can kiss my feathered chocobo butt,_ Prompto thought.

After the excitement had cleared from the air, the crowd finally began to disperse. Prompto clapped his hands together. “All right, now that the order has rightfully been restored, I gotta get home and do some studying,” he said with a nod to Noctis.  “I’ll see ya later.”

“Same time tomorrow at the library?” Noctis asked.

“Yep.”

“See ya then.”

Prompto waved and left the arcade with a small smirk on his face.

He had a routine.

On Mondays and Fridays, he’d sneak away from his busy schedule to go and blow off some steam in the arcade with Noctis. What started out as a laid back, relaxing hobby soon turned into a full blown competition, thanks to that one night Noctis decided he wanted to challenge him to a KupoKart race. Then, it was all downhill from there. The pair challenged each other to a duel at every single game in the arcade. Prompto lost most of them… until they got to Malboro Mayhem. Since then, he’d kind of laid claim to the game - he made it a point to play it every time they visited, and every time they stopped by and he saw his high score still in the top ranking, he’d leave feeling pretty damn accomplished.

_Ignite._

Just who the hell did he think he was, anyway?!

Prompto stewed over the mysterious challenger for awhile, but soon the name became a mere fart in the wind as he got swept up in the remainder of his crazy, busy week. With three tests to study for and a group project due in a week, Prompto was going to have his hands full.

…but not so full that he still wouldn’t sneak off to the arcade for his Friday routine.

After a few rounds of KupoKart with Noctis, Prompto sidled over to the Malboro Mayhem machine just as he always did, eager to end his evening routine with his favourite game.

Only…

RANK 2: QKSLVR

SCORE: 10027

RANK 1: IGNITE

SCORE: 10028

“Not again!” Prompto cried, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Oh man,” Noctis grinned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“One point?!” Prompto wailed. “Again?!”

“This Ignite guy sure has it in for you, doesn’t he?”

“One. Freaking. Point?!”

“How’s your ego doing _now_?”

“Oh, it’s _on_ . It’s _so on_ . This is _war_.”

And so began the back and forth battle. Every Monday and Friday, Prompto would go to the arcade as he always did, only to be greeted by the sight of his high score beaten by _one_ point, and _always_ by the same person. Whoever this Ignite person was, he was ruthless, and at this point Prompto was convinced that the guy really _did_ have it in for him.

“Wiz, c’mon dude, you’ve gotta know who this guy is,” Prompto practically begged the owner of the shop one evening. “This has been going on for way too long. Who is it? When does he come in? It’s like, the guy never fails to beat my score but it’s always on a day I’m not here.”

Wiz set aside his cleaning rag and leaned against the front counter, looking down at Prompto with a sly smile on his face. “I might know somethin’. But it’ll cost ya,” he murmured.

“Whatever you want, man! Anything at all, say it and it’s _done_.”

“All right. In exchange for doing some sweeping for me…”

“Done and _done_.” Prompto made a sweeping motion with his arms.

“...I might just let it slip that I’ve got a regular patron that can be seen coming and going from the arcade on Tuesday evenings…”

“Tuesdays,” Prompto grumbled. “Of _course_ it’s the day I study late at the library.”

“...and he may have an affinity for your Malboro game there.” Wiz pointed to the machine.

“Tuesday… Tuesday… got it.” Prompto was all smiles, all determination now. “Wiz, you are the absolute best, thanks!” With a pivot of his heels, Prompto spun and took a step towards the door.

“Ah-ah, did you forget already?” Wiz held out the broom, giving it a little wiggle.

“Heh. Sorry.” Prompto smiled sheepishly, pivoting back around to the counter.

Next Tuesday then officially became the start of Operation: Extinguish Ignite.

Prompto finished his studying early that evening for the sole purpose of going on a stakeout at the arcade. Eager to catch his arch nemesis in the act, he was fully aware of how ridiculous this entire situation was, but he couldn’t resist. He _had_ to know. Just who was this person? And why did they choose this game out of all the ones in the whole arcade to haunt? Prompto briefly considered the possibility that he’d been cloned and that he was somehow battling himself this whole time, but then---

Prompto snapped out of his daze when he heard the sound of the arcade’s front door opening, followed by footsteps. Not even ten minutes had passed of Operation: Extinguish Ignite before the mystery was tentatively solved. Maybe.

The subtle _tap_ of dress shoe heels clacked against the linoleum, the stride of long legs and purpose.

Tall.

Ash-blond hair, styled neatly and meticulously, framing an angular face and expensive looking glasses that sat on the bridge of a pointed nose.

A long, flowing trench coat, ending at the knees, its front clasps partially done up to reveal a tweed sweater beneath.

There was no way this person was Ignite.

Right?

Prompto stared at this mysterious stranger from behind the KupoKart machine, at this man who looked like he’d just stepped out of a college recruitment brochure. Tweed Sweater then made a beeline for the Malboro Mayhem machine, reaching into a deep pocket stashed full of arcade tokens. He then pulled one out and promptly loaded it into the machine, the familiar digital jingle of the game booting up filling the air shortly after.

No. Way.

Tweed Sweater... _was_ Ignite.

“ _You_ ,” Prompto said accusingly. He stepped out from his hiding spot, pointing a finger at the man as he approached him. It was like his feet were moving on their own, drawn like a magnet to a refrigerator door. He had no idea where he was even going with this, but it was too late to go back now.

“Can I help you?” an accented voice replied, the stranger’s eyes never leaving the screen. The man’s gloved hands were firmly attached to the machine, long fingers curled around the joystick while the opposite hovered over the large red buttons at its side.

“ _You!_ ” Prompto said again. “Yeah, you can help me! You’re Ignite, aren’t you?”

Thin lips curled into a smirk. “I take it you must be the aptly named ‘Quick Silver’?”

“So you _do_ have it out for me!”  Prompto stood at Ignite’s side, his eyes searing invisible holes all throughout those fancy clothes he wore. “I knew it! I’m not crazy! You totally _have_ been coming in here every week to steal my high score!”

“ _Your_ high score?” the man mused as he started up his session.

Elegant fingers moved at the speed of light, gliding from one button to the next. Prompto couldn’t stop staring - he’d never seen anything like it. Here he thought _he_ was fast, but this? This was just _madness_. He soon found himself mesmerized, almost hypnotized at the sheer speed of the falling blocks that fell on the screen, the sound effects hammering away so quickly that they bled into each other.

“I wasn’t aware that the position of Rank One was already claimed, my apologies,” the man continued. “I’ll make sure to jot down a note to self, to ensure I remain Rank Two in the future. Have to save myself from the impending guilt that is sure to follow soon, after all.”

Prompto’s mouth hung open. He desperately searched for a comeback, for some choice words, _anything_ at all, but his mind drew an absolute blank. All he could do was stare helplessly at the screen, blocks and all, but more importantly, at the score at the top of the screen that was climbing at a rapid rate. Already, Ignite was encroaching on his top score - how?! And in such little time, too?! It shouldn’t be possible, and yet it was happening right in front of him. It was like he was a machine, some kind of robot whose sole purpose in life was to defeat Prompto Argentum.

And so, Prompto did the only thing he felt he could do in a moment like this:

He ran.

Just as Ignite’s game was coming to a close, the man spoke up once more. “If you’d like, perhaps we could---” he began, but it was too late; Prompto had bolted right out of his sight.

“Squirrelly, that one is,” said Wiz from over at the front counter. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just got a weird thing about that particular game, is all. Kind of an obsession, if ya ask me.”

“I see,” Ignite said, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

\--------------

“Dude, I saw him. I _met him_.” Prompto dialed up his best friend the moment he got back to his dorm room. Phone cradled against his neck, his arms flailed around like he was swatting at an invisible bug. “You’ll never guess what he looks like. It’s like he’s someone’s grandpa or something!”

Noctis laughed incredulously on the other line. “Wait, so are we talking Wiz grandpa, or grandpa like---”

“No, not like a literal grandpa!” Prompto flopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Honestly, he didn’t look much older than me. But he was dressed too… _nice_ , y’know what I mean? Like he was going to some sort of hoity-toity party, or like he was some kind of posh rich guy on his way to a photoshoot.”

“So... you mean he puts more than three minutes of thought into his appearance every morning, unlike you,” Noctis yawned. “Got it.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it takes me a _minimum_ of twenty minutes to do my hair.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Seriously though, just who the heck does he think he is? I bet he goes home and like, counts his stamp collection or something.”

“Stamp collection? Wow. Are you from an 80s cartoon or something? Because your idea of a stereotypical nerd is so dated it’s embarrassing.”

“Dude, if you saw him, you’d get what I mean. Tell me: just who wears a tweed sweater in this, our year of 2018?”

“People who have a better fashion sense than you do?”

Prompto scoffed. “Just whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Anyway,” Noctis continued, “so what did you do? Let me guess. You ran?”

Prompto sighed. “Uh huh. I ran.”

“Man. You guys could have had an epic battle montage scene like in the movies if you’d stayed. I would have paid good money to see that.”

“He…”  Prompto gave a defeated sigh. “He was _really good_ . Like. I’ve got an ego and stuff, but… he was making it look like it was easy. _Too_ easy. I couldn’t just stand there while he scattered my ass like an offering of bread crumbs to a murder of crows.”

Noctis laughed. “So what now? What are you gonna do about it?”

“The only thing I can do, Noct.”

“Avoid the arcade?”

“Avoid the arcade.”

Only, Prompto couldn’t avoid the arcade.

Instead of going on Mondays and Fridays, he changed up his routine to be Tuesdays and Fridays instead. Each time he went in on Tuesday, he managed to just narrowly avoid Ignite on his way out. Each time, Prompto would find his high score beaten when he went to check on the Malboro Mayhem cabinet. And, each time, he’d find a way to beat Ignite’s score quicker than he had the last. Soon, this had been going on for over a month; the two of them beating each other’s scores back and forth and successfully managing to avoid interacting with one another in the process.

But… it didn’t mean that Prompto wouldn’t hide off to the side, ducking behind one of the machines just so he could catch a glimpse of the mystery man. Each time Ignite came to the arcade, he was dressed in an outfit that looked fancier and more expensive than the least. Each time, he held a can of Ebony in hand and his hair was styled just right, with nigh a strand of hair out of place. Prompto wasn’t sure why he was so oddly drawn to his rival, but he was starting to memorize which outfits he’d wear certain ties with, and he’d counted the number of beauty marks that dotted the man’s otherwise flawless face.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a crush on the guy,” Noctis said one evening. “You’re practically stalking the guy.”

“Am not!” Prompto yelped. “I mean. Er. Not... technically.”

“So hiding out every Tuesday just to watch him isn’t---”

“Dude, I’m _not_ watching him.”

“You so are.”

“I’m just… observing him,” Prompto said nonchalantly. “That’s all.”

“Why?”

“I wanna know how he does it.”

“How he does what?”

“Beat my score so easily, duh.”

“Well, why don’t you just, I dunno, _ask_ him for some pointers?”

“Because? That would be admitting defeat?”

“Well, maybe you _should_ just go and admit defeat already.”

“No.”

“Just go and _talk to him_ already.”

Prompto wasn’t going to talk to him.

Next Tuesday rolled around, and he hid in his usual spot. And right on the dot, in came Ignite, heading straight for the game as predicted. He went on ahead and did his thing at the Malboro Mayhem cabinet, but afterward, Ignite’s routine deviated from its usual set path that led to the exit door and instead---

“I know you’re watching me, Quick Silver,” said Ignite, his cool and calm voice practically oozing from the other side of the cabinet Prompto was hiding behind.

The hair on Prompto’s arms stood on end as his heart stopped in his chest. “Uh, I, um, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied hurriedly. “I was just---”

Ignite, to Prompto’s surprise, chuckled lightly. “I know you’ve been watching me every single Tuesday since we’d first run into one another. Does it amuse you? Seeing me squash your high score, as if it were a little stink bug beneath my heel?”

“Dude, I am _not_ a stink bug,” Prompto retaliated.

“Is that so.” Ignite stepped around the cabinet. Prompto swore he was some kind of TV star from some kind of drama series, as his long, flowing trench coat seemed to _whoosh_ in an invisible gust of wind when he moved. “Come now, Stink Bug. Might you join me for a friendly match? I’ll even go easy on you, if you like.”

Prompto made a rude noise.

What _was_ this?

“I don’t need your sympathy, _Ignite_ ,” Prompto grumbled, scrambling to retain any shred of decency he had left. “I---”

“Ignis,” the man interrupted.

“Huh?” Prompto stared at him, as if a second head had just popped up on his shoulders like a tulip in a garden.

“My name,” the man clarified. “It’s Ignis.”

Prompto continued to stare, eyebrow rising in suspicion. “Okay, now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“I assure you, as silly as it sounds, I’m telling the truth. Surely your name isn’t Quick Silver?”

“Psssh, no, but I kinda wish it was. It’s Prompto.”

“Pardon?”

Prompto rolled his eyes. “My name. It’s _Prompto_.”

“Ah. Now I see why you chose to call yourself Quick Silver instead.”

“Dude, shut up!” Prompto crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight to the other foot. “So, are we duelling or what?”

Ignis’ lips quirked upward. “If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”

And duel they did. Prompto loaded up the machine with extra tokens, activating the two-player mode on Malboro Mayhem. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played a two-player match. His adrenaline was on high; he felt like he was thrumming with lightning. Or were his veins on fire? Had Ignite ignited him?

Each time he glanced at the man from the corner of his eye while they ‘duelled’, Prompto wasn’t sure what it was he was feeling, but he was sure feeling _something_.

And he felt something completely different when their match ended…

...on a tie.

“No. Way,” Prompto uttered, staring wide-eyed at the screen.

“Odd. I didn’t think such a thing was even possible,” Ignis replied. “Actually, I’m surprised that such a rare occurrence didn’t end up freezing the machine.”

“So now what?” Prompto wailed. “If we’re tied, then how are we going to end up settling this? At this rate we’re going to end up spending a crapload of tokens at the arcade, and I mean, sure, Wiz won’t mind, the dude’s already drained me of all my spare change, but---”

“Well…” Ignis trailed off.

“Well?” Prompto repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ignis cleared his throat, then did that thing Prompto noticed he’d do when he was having an internal debate with himself; _tap tap_ went his index finger to his chin. “...I do own the home version, if you’re interested,” he added after a moment.

Prompto felt something odd manifest in the pit of his stomach. “...and what exactly are you implying?” he asked slowly.

Ignis sighed, sliding his hands into the deep pockets of his jacket. “Would you like to join me in my dorm for another round? That way, we won’t waste all of our tokens on settling this silly score.”

Prompto’s mind spun like a whirlpool, reaching his hand into his sea of thoughts and picking out the one detail that really didn’t matter much in this current situation. “Wait, wait, your dorm?” he asked in confusion. “You live in a dorm?”

“Well, yes,” Ignis said matter-of-factly. “I’m a student at Insomnia University.”

Prompto’s jaw dropped. “...you go to Insomnia University too?!”

“Of course, Prompto. It _is_ the only local university in the city, after all.”

Prompto stared at him like he’d just grown a third head this time.

“Prompto?” Ignis called.

Prompto chewed on his lip, giving an almost dramatic pause. “Okay,” he said with finality.

“So it’s a go, then?”

“Yeah, it’s a go. Let’s settle this once and for all, Ignite.”

Ignis grinned. “Very well, Quick Silver.”

The walk to Ignis’ dorm was, to Prompto’s surprise, not as awkward as he’d thought it would be. Ignis was actually pleasant, when his thin lips weren’t spouting off insults that went clear over Prompto’s head. They talked about the classes they were taking in college (Ignis’ major was history, Prompto’s photography), their favourite professors (Mr. Leonis and Ms. Yeagre, respectively), and when they finally arrived at Ignis’ door, their favourite study time beverages (Ebony and Kenny Kola).

Ignis’ dorm was about what Prompto had expected. It was… clean. Almost _too_ clean, like the man made a point to clean it from top to bottom every single day, in the event that he had someone over that he wanted to impress or something.

Ignis hadn’t planned this from the get-go, right?

No, no, of course not.

Prompto sat down on Ignis’ olive green couch, glancing around at his surroundings. As he stared at the matching coaster set that decorated the coffee table’s surface in front of him, he soon snapped out of his daze when he felt a gentle touch to his shoulder.

“Prompto? Is everything all right?” Ignis asked.

Ignis was… close.

 _Too_ close.

“Er, yeah! Sure!” Prompto yelped, his arms flailing at his sides. “Everything’s just fine!”

Ignis chuckled. “If you insist.” The hand moved away from Prompto’s shoulder. “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?” Prompto smirked. “My God, you really _are_ old.”

“I’ll have you know I am but twenty-two years old,” said Ignis, disappearing into the kitchen. Prompto could hear the light _clink_ of ceramic against a countertop, and a running faucet to follow. “And many young folk drink tea these days. It’s really not so farfetched.”

“The tweed sweater, though.” Prompto scrunched his nose.

“Is it a problem to dress how you feel?”

“So you feel old?”

Ignis laughed. “You are a rather interesting person, Prompto. I’m glad it was your score that I decided to challenge myself to take down every week.”

“Ha! So you _do_ admit it!” Prompto hollered, hands giving his knees a slap. “You _were_ making it a point to target me and kick my ass!”

Ignis stepped back into the room, a mug in each hand. “And if I was?”

Prompto grinned. “Okay, okay, let’s hurry up and get this match started already.”

The moment Prompto felt that familiar retro controller fall into his hands’ grasp, he couldn't help but feel like he was… _home_ . It had been ages since he’d last played on an old game console like this, and yet, it felt like it was just yesterday. He forgot all about the fact that his hands and wrists were aching and strained from all of the excessive arcade visits as of late and just _played_. Ignis was unforgiving - he definitely didn’t go easy on him. The man was a pro, through and through. As their scores climbed higher and higher, they continued playing for hours, only taking a mutual break to sip on the now-cool tea that resided in their mugs.

Prompto glanced over at Ignis while the man prattled on, unable to help but notice just how nice of a smile the other had. After recalling a short tale of how Ignis had started playing video games to begin with (“I found this old console at a garage sale and wanted to see how it worked”, he said) the man unpaused the game with a laugh on his breath, and Prompto picked up his controller once more with a skip of a heartbeat.

Prompto ended up winning their heavy and heated match.

As Prompto stood on the couch, cheering obnoxiously and shamelessly reveling in his victory over the mighty Ignite, Ignis couldn’t recall the last time he’d laughed so hard.  He was smiling; this time, it was a smile that pinched at the corners of his eyes with a flash of pearly whites.

“You didn’t let me win, right? Promise me you didn’t let me win on purpose,” Prompto said, a wide grin on his face. He bounced lightly on the couch before he flopped back down, giving Ignis a playful nudge with his fist to his shoulder. “I wanna know that I through and through dragged your ass through the dirt.”

“I solemnly swear I didn’t let you win on purpose,” Ignis replied fondly. “And my ass is entirely devoid of any metaphorical dirt. However, if I’d known just how delightful your smile was, perhaps I would have allowed you to keep your high score back at the arcade from the very beginning.”

Prompto stopped laughing, his grin slowly fading as what Ignis had just said began to sink in.  “...huh?” he whispered. His violet-blue eyes stared at Ignis, searching for something.

“Sorry, was that… I, I didn’t mean...” Ignis began, but his words were cut short as Prompto shifted closer to him, the sides of their knees touching, as he captured the remainder of Ignis’ breath.

Prompto hadn’t planned on getting his first kiss that evening, but sometimes, life was unpredictable, just like the rankings on a scoreboard.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblrs:  
> [caseofthestolenspecs (FFXV)](http://caseofthestolenspecs.tumblr.com)  
> [saturnvalleycoffee (Misc/main)](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com)


End file.
